Sweet Blood
by Smile-21-Hikari-8
Summary: The deep sharingan red sickened him and, honestly, he didn't want to have to see those bloody eyes again. Not after how it started his life and led him to this hemophobic state. No, he hated the taste of blood more than anything.


© Masashi Kishimoto

February 14th—March 1, 2012

**Sweet Blood**

He's been training ever since he could hold a chopstick and has been taught that death is a common thing for someone that looks for a future as a shinobi. At an unreasonably young age he would have been approaching the genin level and by seven he was a chuunin, who knows when he became a jounin, and by thirteen he was appointed an exclusive member of ANBU. All his life he has trained; fought so hard that someone's blood is always flying.

When he was an agile four year old he once cut his thumb when playing with a kunai. It was reflex for him to stick his cut thumb into his mouth and this was perhaps the beginning of his series of tasting this concoction of steel and blood. His mother rewarded his hard training with a sweet stick of dango or pudding and he could relax again because the taste of blood wasn't there anymore. In his adolescence, not yet a teenager, he experienced his first killing. His opponent was coming at him and all he could do to defend himself was to stab the guy. In surprise of his own unconscious reaction he had gasped, mouth slightly ajar, and a bit of the splatter caught in his mouth. As disgusted as he was he noted that even though he had tasted blood once before he came to the conclusion that he didn't like the taste at all. He came home that day a bit more lost looking that usual and his mother offered him a bit of solace in another sweet treat. It was enough to keep his lunch down.

In paranoia of this happening again, Itachi found himself starting to wear high collared shirts more and more often. It was perfect for protecting his mouth from being splattered in blood ever again. But that was not the last time he tasted the steel and blood mix. There was a time, though it has happened countless times (Itachi can recall quite well), when his father was scolding his beloved little brother for not being able to perfect a jutsu in one day. Everyone has their own learning curves, no? But he couldn't stand up for his little brother. Sasuke needed to know that he had high expectations set for him, right? So as Itachi watched he bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. Actually, he ground his teeth so deep into this useful muscle that the crimson liquid poured from the corner of his mouth. And grudgingly he had interjected the scolding when he grabbed Sasuke's thin wrist in his hand and dragged him out of the room just before he burst out into a coughing fit from nearly drowning in his own blood. He didn't speak to his father for nearly two weeks not only because he was angry at him for scolding his four year old brother but also because his tongue was still healing. During those two weeks he retreated to the local dango shop and gorged himself on their sweets, coating his tongue in its delicious sugariness in order to keep the taste of blood out of his mind. And when he accidentally bit his tongue while gorging he learned that day that he hated his own blood more than he had initially thought.

As an amateur ANBU member Itachi was sent on an easy mission-protect a clergy man from thieves while passing through the rice country. Itachi, known widely as a genius and a skillful boy, was sent by himself on this mission. They only encountered a single team of thieves who were fairly experienced fighters but what he didn't report to the clergyman, Hokage, other ANBU members, or his family was that after killing a few of the thieves he had staggered off site to throw up. The thieves were no match for him, oh, not at all, but the thought of how quickly he had killed them and the way the blood splattered across his face sent shivers down his spine. The way the blood drops crusted on his skin made his skin crawl in disgust and at one point he had even questioned why he let himself go down this road in life. As he scratched the crusted blood away he felt as if he was ripping off his own flesh. Soon after he put in a request for a full face mask.

And, after he had learned of his clan's secret plotting for a Coup d'état he could only nod in numb understanding. After being given the mission to wipe out his own clan, his own family, he could only agree sternly to take the mission. Why? Because he didn't want to see his family be known for such an idiotic scheme of trying to overthrow the Hokage. Because he was tired of doing these stupid missions that only required him to kill or be killed. Because...he didn't want any more blood to be shed. The deep sharingan red sickened him and, honestly, he didn't want to have to see those bloody eyes again. Not after how it started his life and led him to this hemophobic state.

Years later after joining the Akatsuki (a band of supposedly emotionless murderers) Itachi's waited patiently for his little brother to come kill him for vengeance. But before Sasuke could get to him he was overcome with an indistinguishable disease that causes him to cough up blood. Ahh, _that_ taste again… You wouldn't believe the trouble Itachi had gone through to get the coughing to stop not only for Sasuke's sake, but also because he couldn't stand the taste. Yet, his last fight with Sasuke he had died with one last cough (whether it was because of the disease or because of the exertion from the fight they didn't know), sputtering blood.

Ahh, the taste of his own blood…


End file.
